Salute
by Azolean
Summary: Standing smartly before the desk, Lorne saluted. The Colonel's reply was not what he expected. "Drop the bow, Major. I haven't earned that yet." "Sir?" "Around here, the salute is reserved for, shall we say 'special occasions'. We haven't worked together, yet. Other than my rank, I've not earned that salute," Sheppard explained Lorne, making him wonder what did earn a salute.
1. Prologue

_**A/N:** This one is in reference to a piece called "Welcome to Atlantis" in my SGA Spare Parts Bin._

 _Okay, so Lorne and I are currently locked in an epic battle over another multi-chap fic. Being a holiday, I declared time off and washed my hands of the whole thing hoping for a day of peace. He and Sheppard got together and apparently decided to give me a couple of peace offerings. The other is currently in the SGA Spare Parts Bin._

 _Merry Christmas!_

* * *

 **Prologue**

Staring at the room full of military personnel both in and out of uniform saluting him, Major Lorne recalled Colonel Sheppard's word from their first meeting in the Colonel's office some two years ago now or so.

 _"…around here, the salute is reserved for, shall we say, 'special occasions'."_

Now understanding the weight of those words as he took in the sight of the mess hall before him, Lorne wasn't sure if he should be feeling irritated at having been found out, embarrassed by all the attention, or something else altogether. Instead, he let his professionalism and training take over. He returned the salute and everyone smiled as they went back to their breakfasts.

Something told him today was going to be a very long day.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Less than twenty-four hours before this incident in the mess hall Major Lorne and his team consisting of Lieutenants Cayton, Keane, and Shingleton had just stepped through the gate to a new planet they had yet to explore. These were the missions Lorne enjoyed. Whether it was finding ruins, a new civilization, or even just an unusual geological formation. The MALP they had sent through a few minutes ago had reported little more than a well-worn path and lots of forest. But, the well-worn and rather wide path with wheel ruts indicated there was some kind of settlement nearby.

After the initial survey of the surrounding area, Lorne signaled his team to relax as he took a deep breath of the fresh air filled with the scent of forest loam. He may be a city boy by birth, but he'd always enjoyed the forest for at least short periods of time. Atlantis had given him a whole new appreciation for the scent of anything other than salty sea air. Setting off at an easy pace, the four of them headed along the path to where it led up the nearby hill.

The scene that greeted them at the top of the hill had all four stopping to appreciate it. Spread out below them for miles and miles was a huge valley that stretched to the horizon. Amid little patches of trees were countless fields of crops. Lorne could feel his fingers itching for a canvas and some paint. Just below them at the first level part of the valley the path connected to, sprawled a small city of what looked like one to two storey buildings from a distance. By the looks of it they were not very technologically advanced. The center of the city seemed to have a few stone buildings, but most of them were wooden houses and huts with thatched roofs. Hoping they were as friendly as the well-worn path indicated, the Major set a pace that would get them there in roughly twenty minutes.

Thirty minutes later Major Lorne was making introductions to some of the locals who were as friendly as he'd hoped. It wasn't long before a meeting between himself and the village elders had been set up in the local meeting hall that served as a tavern as well. Not sensing any threat, Lorne dismissed the rest of his team to look around the town and make friendly with the locals. Meanwhile, he set his mind to laying the groundwork for opening talks between them and Atlantis to open communications and possibly trade.

Keane and Shingleton, curious about the architecture of the central buildings, casually made their way toward the building at the center of town. Despite the overall friendly atmosphere and almost jovial decorative style of all the other buildings, this one seemed dark and foreboding. As they approached, however, it was clear that it was open to the public as it appeared more like a plaza with a very high roof than an actual closed-in building. Cayton, trailing along behind the other two wasn't paying attention to any particular thing as he took in the friendly smiles and laid back atmosphere.

Spotting some interesting carvings along the walls, Keane and Shingleton made their way under the outer overhang of the building. Nearby a handful of people in robes were standing around a large boulder in the center of the plaza. Cautiously they took a few steps in that direction with solemn expressions and querying glances to the robed figures. Seeing they were not warned away visually or verbally, Keane and Shingleton approached. For a few minutes they just watched the men in robes of various colors praying to the boulder they assumed represented some kind of god. To them the statue appeared little more than a lump of stone with roughly carved out facial features. Finding this of little interest, they turned back to the rather detailed carvings along the inner walls underneath the outer overhang.

Cayton, standing a few meters away watched some kids playing some sort of game with a ball that had all of them squealing and giggling. Turning his attention back toward his teammates, he watched as Keane pointed something out to Shingleton that had them both laughing a moment later at whatever had been said. Curious, he started to walk over to them with a grin on his face. A heartbeat later he froze in his tracks and had to refrain from reaching for his P90 as the robed figures suddenly surrounded his teammates shouting angrily. Their training kicking in, the two men raised their hands non-threateningly, but were grabbed from all sides. Glancing back, Keane caught sight of Cayton and nodded in a clear signal to get to Major Lorne, fast.

Keeping his distance, Lieutenant Cayton followed his teammates as they were lead away toward a nearby stone building.

"Lieutenant Cayton for Major Lorne."

 _"Lorne here, go ahead,"_ Cayton heard as a robed figure took off at a flat run toward the tavern.

"Sir, we have a bit of a situation. Lieutenants Keane and Shingleton were just lead away by some guys in robes. Nothing violent, but we may have a problem. I'm following them now."

 _"Yeah, one of them just came in here. Watch, but don't do anything. Standby."_

With a sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, Cayton did just that. He watched, but kept a good distance from the building as he saw his two friends being shoved inside and the door closed. The building not being very large, it was easy to see through the roughly hewn stone windows as the two were left to stand there in confusion. Making eye contact one more time, Shingleton nodded and pointed toward his earpiece to let Cayton know they were able to listen to any instructions coming from the Major. All three shrugged at each other and shook their heads. Whatever they had done to offend the locals, they knew their team leader would handle and they'd still all be home by dinner time.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Major Lorne sat with barely concealed irritation while the robed figure approached the eldest of the elders that essentially lead this small city. That mild irritation at whatever the two Lieutenants had gotten themselves into turned into a mental groan a moment later. The outrage on the bald man's face was obvious as he turned a rather startling shade of red, not unlike his robe. Bowing briefly to the Eldest, he visibly shook with barely contained rage.

"Eldest Tamal, the newcomers have laughed in the face of Que'lake!"

The gasps of horror around the room did nothing to dispel the sense of annoyance Lorne was starting to feel. Though this was by far not the first time he and his team had committed a faux pas, they were usually easily smoothed over. But the outrage he sensed here, and the fury he was seeing in the Eldest's face did not bode well.

"Eldest, I apologize if my men have offended," Lorne spoke up. "We meant no disrespect. We are just unfamiliar with your ways."

"That is no excuse! Que'lake's wrath will be felt regardless of your ignorance!" the elderly man shouted. "The punishment will commence immediately!"

 _Damn, not good,_ Lorne thought to himself, having hoped to end this peacefully.

With Atlantis' need for supplies if they were ever going to be self-sufficient in the Pegasus Galaxy, they could not afford to lose such a valuable trading alliance as this one appeared it might be. As far as he could tell these people had no weapons to even come close to what he and his team had brought; so he had no desire to use them, even as a scare tactic. Besides, scaring them and then getting his team out of there even without bloodshed would still cost them a valuable trading partner. Bloodshed was not an option in his mind. Thinking furiously and trying to buy himself some time, Lorne asked what the punishment was; not really paying that much attention until he got his answer.

"Nineteen lashes before Que'lake to prove you shall never do it again."

Major Lorne just managed to refrain from showing his surprise openly. _Well, it could be worse. It could be execution,_ he thought.

"Is there no alternative? No recompense we could offer?"

"No. Que'lake's wrath is swift and vicious. And ours must be also, to prove ourselves before Que'lake. The only alternative is execution, so that we may show Que'lake that we were not among those who offended him," the eldest said, his initial fury calming somewhat at realizing he was dealing with a man who seemed sincere in rectifying the situation instead of trying to bully or laugh at them, unlike so many others before him.

 _There goes that idea. Damn, damn, damn,_ Lorne thought, showing none of this in his expression as he considered the options.

"We must begin now, before Que'lake unleashes his wrath upon us!" a man in the crowd shouted fearfully.

Out of time and out of options, Lorne heard his radio crackle to life. _"Sir, they're taking Keane and Shingleton out of the building. They said they're going to be flogged."_

"I know. Stand down, I'm working on it."

Giving Lorne a sad look, Eldest Tamal turned his attention to the robed figure. Before he could speak, Lorne came up with the only solution he could.

"Eldest, may I offer a trade?"

"There is no trade in the face of an offended god!" the robed figure replied, still livid.

"I am their leader. Would it be acceptable to offer myself, instead?"

"You would do such a thing?" Tamal asked, obviously surprised.

"Yes. And, for my men, exile. They will never be allowed to return, and must leave immediately."

Tamal turned to the robed man who seemed intrigued by this rather than offended or horrified. That was a plus, at least. After a few moments of silence the priest nodded. "Que'lake will accept your punishment as sacrifice."

"Then it is done," Tamal agreed quickly, sensing things could get out of hand with the rest of the villagers quickly.

"Please, let me speak with my men. I will remain in here and use my radio, our communication devices, while you release them, if that is acceptable?"

"Agreed," said Tamal with a nod as the red-robed priest exited the tavern, hopefully to release the two Lieutenants.

Turning to his radio, Lorne kept his eyes locked with those of the Eldest so the man could see he wasn't about to change his mind or try to run. He very deliberately kept his hands away from any weapons as he sensed the tension in the room increasing with his request as if they expected him to suddenly try to fight his way out of there. Obviously they'd had such problems before. The silence in the room was heavy enough to carry its own presence.

"Keane, Shingleton, you are being released and exiled. Cayton, go with them. I've smoothed things over. Please explain to Colonel Sheppard and Doctor Weir that I will be continuing talks and should be back in two to three hours. Code Zero. I repeat, Code Zero."

"Roger that, sir. Cayton out."

His heart racing, Lorne turned his radio off. "They will never come back. I will swear to that. But we may send others if you are amenable to others of my people continuing talks of trade for food and services."

"We must hurry! If the sun sets—" a woman started.

Tamal held up a hand to silence her, but no so much as if trying to keep a secret. He continued to eye the Major contemplatively. "You wish your men not to know?"

"Yes. I will tell my leaders what has happened to avoid it happening again. But it was a mistake made by my men, and I will pay for it. Will that be enough to allow us to continue negotiations with your people?"

"But—"

"Kaalaami, the sun will not set in the few minutes it takes his juniors to leave the city."

"But Que'lake might—"

"Enough! We will all go to him and pray to hold off his wrath for the time being," Tamal ordered the rest of them, as a purple-robed figure watched in silence, but did nod at this idea. Then he turned back to Lorne. "Yes, Major Lorne. Among our people, and our god, a debt payed is then forgotten. We will talk further with this Doctor Weir or her emissaries when the time comes. Please warn them also that we do not accept strangers in the dark. They are executed on arrival."

"Thank you, eldest Tamal."

That seemed to settle the issue. Everyone present not already on their feet rose and began to file out of the door. In the middle of the group, Lorne shuffled along with them. He just wished he could stop his heart from feeling like it was going to pound right out of his chest.

~o~o~o~

Having cleared the city walls, the three Lieutenants continued their march in silence. All three of them were fairly pissed off at the turn of events. Though they all knew they had had no way of knowing and no one had warned them, it still didn't sit well. Such incidents were not uncommon, and exile was usually the recommended outcome for all parties when possible. But, for some reason, Shingleton didn't like the feel of the thing. Of course, he'd never liked encounters with religious fanaticism in any form. Yet this one just didn't sit right. Despite the security code they'd been given, he d been very reluctant to leave their team leader alone. Silently the other two followed his pace as he stepped it up to an uphill jog hoping the locals wouldn't change their mind about keeping them before they could get to Colonel Sheppard to see what he said.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Major Lorne stood at the back of the crowd that had gathered before the rough stone statue of their god in the center of the plaza. At this point he was the only person standing as the hum of prayers continued. Discreetly he had queried Tamal to learn that giving obeisance himself, as an offender, would be seen as a mockery. And, since he offered himself willingly for the punishment, he was not guarded. That just left him with too much time on his hands to consider what he'd done. He wondered if that maybe was the purpose of so much time to stand, unattended. Because there was no missing the occasional glances the priests shot at him to see if he'd changed his mind and run.

Still wracking his brain for a peaceful way out of this mess that wouldn't cost them a trading partner and possibly leave them with yet another hostile group out there that could turn even more societies against them in the future, Lorne turned his attention back toward his team. From where he stood near the outer ring of the plaza, he could see the road leading up the hill to the gate. Just barely he could make out the three darker figures moving at a fair clip. Hoping they would follow orders and not do something stupid like call in Weir or Sheppard, which could wind up undoing all he'd started and still possibly lead to bloodshed, he turned his attention back to the gathered group.

Eyeing the plaza, he could already guess how this was going to go down. On either side of the statue and a couple of meters forward of it were two thin stone pillars. He could clearly make out ancient notches worn into the stone from centuries of use holding ropes. And, unless he completely missed his guess, this was not only going to be very public, but likely to draw quite a crowd. Glancing up the hill once more, he was relieved to see his team had already disappeared as the prayers wound down to silence.

In the silence the gathered crowd began to rise to their feet, bowing many times as they backed away from the statue. Tamal and a group of three priests of various colored robes approached with ropes. Still terrified, but feeling a sort of calm now that he was committed to this course of action, Lorne nodded. Stepping up to the pillars they had motioned to, he unclipped his P90 and set it on the ground beside where he assumed he would be standing. No one indicated otherwise, so he continued by unzipping his vest and shrugging out of it, placing it on top of his P90.

He was almost surprised at how steady his hands were. Almost. But as he continued to strip down until completely naked as he'd been instructed, he could feel his heart racing still. He just hoped that none of his humiliation and fear showed through in his expression.

Holding out his arms, he signaled he was ready. Two robed figures approached, gently pushing down on his shoulders to signal that he should kneel. Doing so, he kept his arms out. Well, at least he wouldn't have to worry about hanging by his wrists. Though he'd never known anyone with personal experience in such things, he'd heard enough stories of how this typically played out to guess. His imagination was more than happy to fill in any blanks.

Forcing himself to remain focused, Lorne waited. Once they'd tied his wrists to their satisfaction, the two robed figures stepped back. Behind him somewhere, he heard another one taking position with what he knew was going to be the whip or lash or cane or switch of some kind. Trying not to let his imagination take off, he waited. Someone behind him shouted something in a language he didn't understand. A split second later fiery agony unlike anything his imagination could have conjured seared across his back just below the shoulder blades. Gasping in shock, he couldn't even scream the pain was so surprising. He could feel a trickle of blood running underneath his right shoulder blade and down his back.

Somewhere behind him the voice shouted another phrase. Again the fiery agony seared a line across his back, leaving another trickle of blood. His fists and teeth clenched, the Major bit back a scream. Falling back on his training, he began a low chant intended to replace the screams he knew would likely not be long behind.

In a voice just above a whisper he started, "Evan Lorne—"

Shout. Whip crack. Searing agony.

"Major, United States—"

Shout. Whip crack. Searing agony.

"Air Force. Five seven—"

Shout. Whip crack. Searing agony.

This time he had to breathe before he could continue. "…three nine eight two one—"

Shout. Whip crack. Searing agony.

He could feel the blood trickling down his back to his thighs. "…eight. May sixth nineteen—"

Shout. Whip crack. Searing agony.

This time a small cry escaped his lips before he could clamp down on it. "…seventy. Evan Lorne. Major—"

Shout. Whip crack. Searing agony punctuated with a brief scream. By the ninth he found he could only continue the chant mentally. By the end of the first nineteen, he was hanging from the ropes, again thankful he hadn't been made to stand. His shoulders already protested the position, he didn't need to imagine what his full body weight would have done. When they paused to pray and ask for Que'lake's mercy, he wanted to scream at them to get it over with. He no longer felt his back. All he could feel was the burning of his flesh on fire where the whip had touched him again and again and again.

Gradually he began to regain some of his senses. Mentally he took up his chant again, not trusting the shuddering muscles in his jaws to make him sound anything other than pathetic. Forcing himself upright, he waited. It wasn't a long wait.

An eternity later the noise had stopped, though the pain had not. Nearly insensate from the overwhelming fiery agony in his back and shoulders, he let himself hang limply. Gradually his spatial sense began to inform him of the departing crowds. Realizing it must be over, he struggled to force himself upright again so that he would not end up on his face when they cut the ropes. As expected a few seconds later, they cut the ropes, but didn't bother to let him down gently. On his knees, he shook his arms trying to get some feeling back in them before he attempted to pick up his clothes.

"I cannot help you, but I can give you this," Tamal said from close behind him, startling him.

Not really trusting his balance at this point, Lorne put one hand to the ground as he turned slightly to face the man. Only now did he realize he was sitting in a small pool of his own blood. Frowning, his pain hazed mind tried to make sense of why this was important. Seeing the large cloth Tamal was holding out, Lorne took it with a shaking hand. Slowly his mind began to piece it all together. He still had to get back to Atlantis. And, if he was going to keep his team from finding out what had actually happened, he was going to need to clean up as much as possible. There was no hope for his still bleeding back, but maybe…

"You must leave before the sun sets. You, too, have been exiled. My people admire your courage and sacrifice, but do not wish to risk further insult to Que'lake by allowing you to remain within our city. To remain here after dark is to submit yourself for execution," Tamal warned. "Please, hurry. You must be beyond sight of the city walls once the sun had gone beyond the mountains."

Shaking off his hazy thoughts, Lorne struggled to focus. "Understood."

Eldest Tamal nodded once, and then turned away. Struggling on legs that shook badly enough to possibly not support him, Lorne wiped off as much of the blood as he could. He could still feel his back bleeding, but had formed a rough plan for how to deal with that. Mentally lashing himself, now, he forced his trembling body to obey his commands. Before long he was back into his clothes and headed toward the open city gates. With a sigh of relief, he realized he'd made it out just in time, as twilight began to fall on the path ahead.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

An hour later, Major Lorne took a moment to sit just a little to the side of the DHD. It hadn't been his first rest stop, either. On two other occasions he'd found himself fighting back darkness creeping around the edges of his vision. Thankfully the worst of his shakes had stopped. Now he just needed to collect himself enough not to draw undue attention as he returned to Atlantis. The last thing he wanted at this point was for his team to know what had actually happened. Colonel Sheppard was going to have to know, otherwise he wouldn't be able to properly protect anyone going there to negotiate trade. But anyone else…

Shaking off his blurring thoughts, Lorne stood up. Feeling a bit more collected, he rubbed a hand down the back of his pants, glad to feel dry cloth. So far so good. As far as he could tell, his shirt had stuck to the open wounds and his jacket had absorbed the oozing blood. With his black tac vest over that, he should be able to make it to the infirmary unnoticed, even if he ran into his team. Trying to look as casual as possible, he dialed and sent through his IDC. Stepping through the gate, he had to blink away the glare of how bright the room was compared to where he'd just come from. Though it was well into the evening hours on the planet he'd left behind, it was actually only late afternoon on Atlantis.

It felt like he'd been gone for days.

Shaking off the contrast of time, Major Lorne turned toward the guard stationed at the corridor that lead to the infirmary. Stumbling slightly, he frowned darkly trying to cover it before realizing it was the perfect cover and excuse at the same time. He unclipped his P90 and held it out toward the guard.

"Captain, can you return this to the armory for me? I'm needing to see Doctor Beckett for a twisted ankle."

"Certainly, Major. Would you like me to take your tac vest, sir?"

Suddenly the flaw in his plan became crystal clear. The tac vest being cinched tighter, holding his jacket to his back and to slow the bleeding as well as keep the blood invisible, was probably the only thing keeping him from being carried out of there. If anyone caught sight of it, they'd be on the radio faster than he could order them to stand down. With a mental groan, Lorne tried to shake off these hazy, panicked thoughts. He knew he must look a hell of a sight standing there going from confused to concerned and then finally settling on what he was certain was a sickeningly fake smile all before replying.

"No thanks, Captain. I'll drop it off on my way to my quarters," he heard himself say, struggling to keep the room at the right angle in his vision.

The dubious look the Captain was giving him pretty much told him what he needed to know. He looked like shit, and he wasn't fooling anybody. Time to hurry up and get to the infirmary. Pretending to favor his left ankle, he ignored the rest of those present in the room. That much taken care of, at least now he didn't have to worry about stumbling slightly, so long as he kept his focus enough to make it to the infirmary while still upright. Turning his mind to the next task, he turned on his mic, "Major Lorne for Colonel Sheppard."

" _Sheppard here. Go ahead Major."_

"Sir, I've returned from M seven eight seven two zero. I'm on my way to the infirmary for a post off-world check, but I need to speak with you. Priority two."

" _Understood, Major. On my way. Sheppard out."_

Glad he still had the mental capacity despite his haziness to remember to code his message to Sheppard properly, Lorne continued his trek toward the infirmary that now felt miles away. As expected, he encountered the usual handful of evening injuries that occurred as people got off from their shifts and indulged in their recreational activities. Unfortunately, though, Beckett was currently tied up with Ronon and wouldn't be able to see to him just yet. Perching on the edge of a nearby chair along the wall near the door, Lorne opted to wait it out.

~o~o~o~

Concerned, by the Major's message, but not overly so, Sheppard had left his office. He already knew from the rest of his team that Lorne had had to smooth over an issue involving a religious offense. But they had also told him that things were otherwise fine. A faux pas being a norm rather than an exception in their line of work, he didn't think anything of it. Making his way to the infirmary, though, he began to rethink the situation.

Scanning the present gurneys in the main area of the infirmary, he frowned wondering where Lorne might have gone.

"Over here, sir," he heard Lorne call.

Turning, Sheppard caught sight of the man sitting in one of the chairs and nearly demanded why he wasn't on a gurney. Lorne was pale and downright haggard looking. Before he could comment, though, Beckett had arrived.

"Major, what happened to you?"

Heaving a sigh, Lorne pushed himself up out of the chair he'd been perched on. Of course his body would choose then to betray him. Feeling the darkness creeping around his vision, he swayed slightly. Sheppard and Beckett both reached out reflexively to catch him. Biting back a hiss of pain he muttered an apology, before blinking several times and shaking his head. Turning his attention back to Beckett, he said, "Doc, we're going to need a private room for this. Colonel, you better come with."

"Certainly, Major," Beckett said, frowning but knowing he wasn't going to get anything out of the man until they were behind closed doors.

The moment the doors were closed, both men pounced.

"Sit down, Major," Sheppard ordered before Beckett even had a chance. "What the hell happened?"

"I know you got the reports from Lieutenants Keane, Shingleton, and Cayton. But it wasn't smoothed over quite as well as I would have liked, sir," Lorne started, unzipping his tac vest. "Doc, I hope you got some time. Cause you're not going to like this."

"What did you do, Major?" Sheppard demanded, the accusation clear.

"Avoided unnecessary violence and bloodshed, and kept a valuable trading partner, Colonel," Lorne finally snapped. "Hold on a second, Doc." Heaving a sigh, he turned his undivided attention on Sheppard. "Shingleton and Keane apparently offended their god, Que'lake, by laughing within his temple. Sir, this offense carries an immediate sentence of either execution or nineteen lashings. We were surrounded by civilians, and I had all of maybe a minute to figure something out. There was no warning, sir."

"I get that. And I think I know where this is going, and I'm not liking it, Major."

"It's already done, sir. You don't have to like it, but you do need to know about it," Lorne replied tiredly. "Look, when you and Doctor Weir send in a team and a negotiator to work out trade agreements, just ensure no one goes near the temple in the center of town. You can't miss it, sir. For the rest of it, that's what diplomats and negotiators are trained to find out. We were not given any warning. They will be. Oh, and they execute anyone approaching their city in the dark."

"Are you saying you were whipped, Major?" Beckett asked incredulously, keeping up with the conversation.

"Yeah, Doc."

"Thirty-eight times, if I'm not mistaken," Sheppard growled, his arms crossed to keep his fists from clenching.

"Yes, sir. Some kind of ceremony," he replied, finally shrugging out of the tac vest so they could see the solid brown back of his jacket as the blood had soaked through and begun to dry.

"My God," Beckett said, wide eyed with horror.

Sheppard, having come around behind Lorne to watch as Beckett gently began to remove the jacket, said, "I assume you didn't want your team to know; since you sent them back Code Zero."

"Yes…sir," he said, having to stop to grunt in pain as the jacket separated from the shirt that was plastered to his back.

"Why?"

"What would you have done, sir? As I said, I didn't have much time. And coming out guns blazing wasn't an option. Even if I'd sent word back, there was no chance of getting Doctor Weir or someone else in there to negotiate anything else in time. The punishment has to be completed before dark or it's execution automatically. And it was well after dark by the time I got back here.

"As for Shingleton and Keane, what purpose does it serve, sir? They didn't know that laughing within the temple grounds was even an offense. Let alone what kind of punishment it would incur."

Lorne paused as Beckett finished cutting the sleeves to the neck and began to gently pull at the shirt to cut it up the back. Beckett's silence alone spoke volumes about how incensed he was by this. Trying not to flinch, Lorne clenched his teeth against several colorful curses as Beckett very carefully and gently began to peel the shirt away from the seeping wounds that still bled. Catching sight of the devastation that had once been the Major's back, even Sheppard struggled to keep his composure. Finally Beckett had the shirt removed, causing Lorne to sigh in relief.

"In any case, sir. You'll have my full report tomorrow. And, it would be greatly appreciated if you could run interference with my team, at least for today. I specifically requested Carson because I knew I could trust him not to talk."

"Will do, Major."

"Thank you, sir."

The exhaustion evident in the man's voice, Sheppard just shook his head. While the whole thing pissed him off, he couldn't deny he'd have done the same under the circumstances. Picking up the tac vest in the hopes of using it as something of a cover for his exit from the infirmary, he was once again very thankful that the black padding didn't show the blood he knew coated the inside. Hefting the vest in one hand, he considered his XO. Still standing behind him, he couldn't even imagine what it had been like, even seeing the after effects.

"You did right, Evan. I would have done the same."

"I know."

Turning to Beckett he said, "Carson, I'm going to need copies of the pictures from before and after. By the looks of it, the whip was metal tipped, right?"

"That would be my guess based on the damage I see. He's going to need several sutures for some of them."

"I'll swing by your office for the copies later, then. Week and a half, two weeks, recovery?"

"Aye, sounds about right."

"Thanks, Doc. Get some rest, Major. I'll update you later."

"Thank you, sir."


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Sheppard was so wrapped up in his thoughts he hadn't even realized he was still holding the tac vest he'd taken from Lorne on his way out of the infirmary. Already at his office, though, he just slung it into a corner. At this point he wasn't even sure who he was pissed off at. He had half a mind to take that planet off their list entirely, if not list them as outright hostile. But that would completely negate what Lorne had accomplished by offering himself up as sacrifice. Which pissed him off all over again. All that he could really consider at this point was the fact that his second in command's back now looked like hamburger steak.

Knowing he wasn't going to get anything useful done in here until he either got it out of his system or found something else to focus on, he headed for a sparring room. Hopefully Ronon wasn't too busy to spare a few minutes.

~o~o~o~

Unfortunately Ronon had been banned from sparring rooms for the next twenty-four hours by an irate Beckett. Instead he'd been lucky enough to have Teyla knock him around a bit until he felt more focused. An hour later and feeling much calmer, Sheppard was back in his office awaiting the arrival of the three Lieutenants. Meanwhile, he turned his attention back to their initial reports. It didn't take them long to show up, however, all three looking nervous to say the least. He forced himself to grin to dispel some of their obvious worry.

"Relax, guys. I just finished talking to Major Lorne. Apparently he's a bit backed up on some paperwork, and we just got some new policies. He's going to be on desk duty for a couple of weeks. I've temporarily reassigned you to Captain Wiley's team, in the meantime."

"Yes, sir," they chimed.

"He was just promoted, so don't give him too hard a time," Sheppard warned. "Any questions?"

"No, sir," Keane and Cayton replied.

"Colonel, may I speak with you privately?" Shingleton asked.

"Have a seat, Lieutenant."

Sheppard didn't miss the curious looks that passed from Keane to Cayton to Shingleton as he nodded to them. As ever, the three of them had worked together for so long they held entire conversations in such silent glances. Sheppard could only guess what had just passed between them. But he was fairly certain he was about to find out.

"What's on your mind, Lieutenant?"

"What really happened to Major Lorne? If I may ask."

"You may not. I already explained that he's going to be on desk duty for the next couple of weeks. That's all you need to know."

"Permission to speak freely, sir."

Sheppard leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Obviously Shingleton was sharper than the others, or they had all known, and he was just the one offered up to speak for all of them. But Sheppard didn't really get that feeling. The four of them were a very cohesive team. He couldn't see the other two bailing out on Shingleton about something like this.

"Granted."

"Did Major Lorne…" he paused, seeming to mentally rephrase whatever he was going to ask. "Did he take our lashings, sir?"

Keeping his expression neutral, Sheppard evaded by asking, "Were it your team, Lieutenant, what would you have done?"

Sheppard could see in the man's eyes that he didn't even need to think about it. He nodded right away, never breaking eye contact. Not giving him a chance to verbally respond, though, Sheppard followed with, "You have your orders, Lieutenant. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir."

Still leaning back in his chair, Sheppard watched Shingleton as he left. Whatever Lorne's wishes, he couldn't dismiss the man's intelligence. Satisfied he'd done his part, he turned his attention back to the initial reports. It was time to revisit the infirmary for those pictures. He could get Lorne's written report tomorrow, if the man was even up for it.

~o~o~o~

Gently knocking on the door to Lorne's room in the infirmary, Sheppard waited, not entirely surprised to find Beckett still in there. Apparently he was just cleaning up. Lorne was now laid out on the bed on his stomach with one arm under his head. An IV connected to his free arm, Lorne was now wearing scrub pants and little else. Assuming Beckett hadn't had a chance to bandage him up yet, he wondered if Lorne was in any condition to talk.

"Is he awake?"

"You can let him in, Carson," Lorne called, slurring slightly.

Beckett sighed and stepped back, making sure no one else was close enough to see. He closed the door just as quickly. "I was about to get the last picture," he explained.

"Thanks, Doc."

"How did it go, sir?" Lorne asked, not bothering to move as Sheppard stepped around the bed to at least come within visual range.

"Well enough," he replied. "Lieutenant Shingleton knows, though. He's sharp. Figured it out all on his own. He'll make Captain, soon."

Lorne muttered a curse, obviously under the influence of something in addition to the obvious exhaustion. "Sorry, sir," he added a moment later, realizing his slip.

"If that's the best you got under the circumstances, then you _are_ in piss poor shape, Evan," Sheppard replied, trying to lighten the mood. "I've heard better out of grade schoolers."

Lorne chuckled. "I'll try harder, next time."

"Uh huh. Well, the cover is that they're temporarily reassigned to Captain Wiley's team, and you're on desk duty thanks to a backlog of paperwork and some new policies. But I doubt that will hold up with Shingleton. Whether he talks or not, I can't say. He's smart enough to know you don't want it known, though. So…"

"Yeah, I get it," Lorne said with another sigh as Carson took a picture.

"All done, Colonel. I'll go get the prints and be back in a moment."

"Thanks, Doc."

"You want me to put a gag on Shingleton?" Sheppard asked, after Beckett had stepped out.

"Wouldn't do any good, sir. He'd just come up with some clever way of slipping out of it."

Sheppard frowned. "So what do you want to do?"

After a few seconds Lorne took a deep breath and began to force himself upright on arms that only shook slightly now, at least.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Lorne shook his head, but continued until he was sitting upright anyway. "Probably not," he grunted through the pain. "But I can't think when I'm like that."

"I'm surprised you can think at all given what I'm sure Carson pumped you full of."

Lorne shook his head again, blinking away the haziness. "Not really. I'm mostly just tired." Catching sight of Sheppard's brow furrowed in concern, he waved a hand in negation, "Don't worry, John. A little bit of blood loss and about a hundred or so stitches. Carson says I'll be fine in a week or two. Just like you estimated."

Sheppard just gave a grunt, whether it was agreement or disapproval of Lorne's lack of concern for his own well-being was anyone's guess. Before either could say anything, however, Beckett returned with folded paper copies of the before and after pictures. His glare for the Major was almost enough to force him back down into a prone position.

"I was falling asleep, Carson. I need to at least make it to my own bed, unless you intend to keep me hidden in here overnight."

"I was. A few hours at the very least while I get more fluids into you. That was not an insignificant amount of blood loss, Major."

"Fine, Doc. Then I can just sneak out of here quietly for my own bed later…" Lorne said, around a yawn. "…with fewer witnesses. Excuse me."

Carson huffed his disapproval, but allowed the Major to stay upright while applying ointment and bandages to the sutures. That much out of the way, Lorne turned his attention back to the Colonel.

"I'm sorry, John. What were we discussing?"

"Nothing, Evan. Get some sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."

Lorne shook his head again, as if trying to recall something. "Sorry, sir."

The fact that Lorne kept shifting between formal and informal was enough to convince Sheppard the man just needed to stay here. Whether his team or anyone else found out was the least of his concerns. What Beckett had said about the blood loss already told Sheppard the Major was trying to play down the whole thing; and Sheppard wasn't fooled. He was already certain that the only thing that kept his friend conscious at the moment was the hope of escape to the privacy of his quarters where he was less likely to be found out. Not that he blamed him. Had it been McKay, Teyla, or Ronon, and he'd done the same, he'd be feeling the same way, too.

Heading out for a late dinner, he decided to sit on this and discuss it with Weir tomorrow.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Late that night Lorne woke alone in the little room. From what little he could recall of his last hour of consciousness, he and Beckett had agreed on…something. And Sheppard had come up with a cover story. But, for the life of him, at the moment he couldn't remember what that had been. Then there had been something about Lieutenant Shingleton. For that matter, most of what had transpired yesterday now felt days ago.

Feeling the dull throbbing all over his back, he was glad to note that the burning sensation had essentially gone away by this point. Carefully sitting up, he took stock of his surroundings. His head wasn't spinning anymore, so that was a plus. He scrubbed his face trying to focus. On the table beside him was his watch and a note. It was just a little after two in the morning. Great, he would normally be getting out of bed in two hours. If he had any hope of covering his ass, he was going to have to figure out something quick.

 _Twisted ankle,_ he recalled vaguely from the gate room yesterday. Well, that would at least cover up his lack of a morning jog; because that definitely wasn't happening today. Turning his attention to the note, he read Carson's instructions, found the set of clothes on the chair, and just now realized his IV was gone. Lorne very nearly chuckled. Beckett, knowing he wasn't going to convince the Major to stay put for the entire night and preferably part of the next day, had instead made arrangements for his quiet escape. If all went well, he'd make it back to his quarters unnoticed; including instructions for a back way out of this ward Beckett had left.

Making a mental note to get the doctor something really nice for his next birthday, Lorne carefully dressed himself in the jeans and loose flannel that had been left for him. Not seeing his boots anywhere, he just hoped he didn't pass anyone in the halls at this time of night that would know he usually didn't go around barefoot. His thoughts still somewhat fuzzy, he followed Carson's instructions to a door at the back of the ward. This led to a narrow corridor that emptied out into the main corridor a ways away from the infirmary. Now all he had to do was make it back to his own bed and some sleep.

~o~o~o~

With a groan Lorne silently cursed his internal alarm clock. He'd deliberately set his actual alarm back to four-thirty to give himself another half hour of sleep, since he wasn't up for a jog today. And, of course, five minutes after his alarm normally would go off, he found himself lying in bed awake. Not wanting to get up, yet. He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.

It didn't take long for the burning in his back to remind him why he was trying to sleep in, in the first place. Knowing he wasn't going to be getting anymore sleep, he carefully maneuvered himself out of bed. The face that greeted him in the mirror very nearly had him groaning all over again. The one thing he hadn't taken into consideration was his pallor. Not to mention the fact that he looked like something three days dead already. Hoping to pass it off as a sniffle or some other such thing he slowly got himself together for the day.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

By four forty-five Major Lorne was on his way out the door and headed toward the mess hall for a cup of coffee as was his usual routine. Still feeling slow and a bit groggy, he tried to present himself as normally as possible. Whatever he'd had in mind for the start of his day wasn't what he got, however. He found himself pausing in confusion as a Captain paused to salute him. Reflexively returning the salute and continuing on toward the mess hall, Lorne began to wonder if maybe Beckett had given him something a bit stronger than the usual.

Just outside the mess hall he crossed paths with a Lieutenant who did the same. Again, he responded more out of reflex than any real thought. But, thoroughly confused now, he hoped some coffee would help clear the remaining haziness of his thoughts.

The moment he entered the mess hall that idea was shot to hell. As soon as the first person in uniform had caught sight of him, the whole room stood to salute, whether they were in uniform or out of uniform. Again, Lorne responded. Now awake enough to wonder just what the hell was going on, he caught a Lieutenant in line for coffee.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant Ghannam. May I ask what that was all about?"

"It's a salute, sir," she replied with a smile.

"I get that, Lieutenant," Lorne said, clearly irritated, "But it's not exactly common practice around here."

"Yes, sir."

"Then why?"

Looking at him as if he were crazy, she kept her verbal reply to, "To show our respect for what you did for your team, sir."

Understanding dawning, Lorne suddenly remembered that something about Lieutenant Shingleton that Colonel Sheppard had mentioned the night before. Half of him wanted to rip into the man on sight. The other half of him wanted to do something much worse. But, he hadn't exactly been ordered to silence, so if there was any fault here, it was his own for not having seen to it himself.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Excuse me."

"Yes, sir."

For a moment Lorne just wanted to forego the coffee and make a hasty retreat to his office. But, at this point, his back on fire, he didn't see the point in trying to cover up anything anyway. His mood having soured to a point he needed the calming effects of the coffee, he grabbed a cup and headed for his office. Still trying for some semblance of normalcy, he just hoped this would go away. While acknowledging rank with a salute was normal on any military base, it was just plain out of character for Atlantis. He'd grown far too accustomed to the laid-back atmosphere of the city for this to be anything other than uncomfortable.

His hope of a reprieve in his office was short-lived, though, when he came around the corner of the corridor and spied the three figures standing outside his office. Just barely stopping himself from glaring, Major Lorne couldn't help the expression of irritation he knew was plastered on his face. As with the others, he accepted the salute and returned it. Motioning for the three Lieutenants to precede him into the office, he just barely bit back some choice curses.

"Do I even need to ask why you're all here, Lieutenants?" he queried, stepping around his desk as he spied a note tucked discreetly under the corner of his laptop.

"Sir, we just wanted to thank you."

"For what, exactly? Doing my job?" Lorne asked, nonplussed.

"Sir, we know you didn't have to."

Picking up the note, Lorne grunted.

 _They know. Make Beckett happy. Take the day off. –Sheppard_

Returning his attention to his team, he knew today was probably going to be a total waste of effort. Setting down his coffee and perching himself on the edge of his chair so as to relieve his still slightly shaky legs, he sighed. This being the only time he'd ever regretted not having more chairs, he looked up at his team. Heaving a sigh, he relaxed a bit.

"What would you have done? Fought our way out? Called for backup?"

Shingleton had obviously thought this through and glanced to the others before speaking. "No, sir. Any alternative would have led to unnecessary bloodshed. But you didn't have to take it for us."

"Again, what would you have done, Lieutenant?"

This time he didn't bother looking to the others. "I would have done the same, sir."

Lorne nodded. Sheppard was right, Shingleton wasn't going to be a Lieutenant for long. The other two, he didn't doubt had their hearts in the right places, but didn't tend to think things through all the way. He had no need to ask them; besides this was uncomfortable enough for all of them, already.

"Why, Lieutenant?"

"Because it was the right thing to do, sir. But I believe letting us take the lashes was equally right."

Lorne shook his head rubbing his temples as if to rub away the headache he could feel growing there, he replied, "No, it wasn't. There was no prior warning, and you had no way of knowing you were committing a religious offense. It is my responsibility as your team leader to ensure you are properly educated on the customs and social etiquette. More to the point, I should not have let you wander without instruction. That is my responsibility as well. But it is an oversight I intended to see corrected with Colonel Sheppard immediately."

"Yes, sir," they replied.

"In other words, I did my job. Nothing more."

"Respectfully, sir," Keane spoke up. "I don't believe there's another team leader in this entire city excepting perhaps Colonel Sheppard that would have done the same."

And that was a truth he couldn't deny. Nodding sadly, he accepted that. "That may be the truth of it, Lieutenant. But we're all human. We do the best we can and hope it works out. It's all we can do."

"Understood, sir."

Heaving a sigh, Lorne leaned his forearms on his desk. "Anything else?"

"No, sir."

"Good, then I believe Colonel Sheppard has given you a temporary reassignment?"

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, sir," Keane and Shingleton offered with one last salute.

"You're welcome. Dismissed."

Not able to stop the groan once they were gone, Lorne folded his arms and laid his head down atop them. He wasn't sure how long he sat there like that, letting the peace and quiet of his office wash over him. But he couldn't deny the throbbing and burning in his back, now echoed by the throbbing growing in his head. It was almost enough to drive him right back to his quarters. Before that, though, he was determined to get his detailed report of the incident finished. If there was any hope of opening peaceful trade with these people, then he needed to ensure the proper education and conduct.

He was still waiting for his laptop to boot up when Sheppard made his appearance. Lorne very nearly groaned again.

"I thought I told you to take the day off, Evan."

"And we both know I have a report to write up, sir," he said stressing the honorific.

Giving a crooked grin at his XO's obviously foul mood, Sheppard plopped himself down in the chair opposite. "What? You can't write it from the comfort of your own quarters?"

"I'm already here."

"Yeah, I couldn't help but notice the trail of salutes in your path."

Putting his head down on the desk again, just short of an all-out headdesk, Lorne gave in to his groan on both a mental and verbal level. "John, I'll give you a salute of the one-fingered variety, if you don't go away. What do you want?"

Laughing Sheppard leaned forward and knocked on the desk hard enough to further irritate his friend. "For you to get some rest. At the risk of sounding hypocritical, you're injured and need to take the time. Go. I've got enough information to update Elizabeth for now. Your report can wait. Besides, your quarters is likely to be the only place in the whole city right now that you're going to get any peace."

Heaving another sigh and forcing himself upright, Lorne said, "True enough. I'm not going to argue too much. Today's probably a total waste at this point, anyway."

"Good, go on. I'll see you in a couple of days."

"Thanks."

Pushing himself up out of his chair, Lorne watched Sheppard heading out the door and down the corridor. Still exhausted, his legs still trembling threateningly, he closed his laptop and picked up his now cold cup of coffee. Yep, Beckett, at least was going to be happy today; and probably for the next couple of days, as well. Right now being stuck in bed sleeping for the foreseeable future sounded like a vacation in paradise.


End file.
